


late night devil (put your hands on me)

by ShatterinSeconds



Series: i don't say no /and you don't say no (the carmen sandiego au) [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Carmen Sandiego Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, bc of an off screen event, can be read as a standalone piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 08:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20992058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatterinSeconds/pseuds/ShatterinSeconds
Summary: “You’re canvassing the joint and we both know it. But I’m here to distract you.”“I didn’t actually expect you to tell me,” Lance comments with a quick, sharp laugh. “Where’s your sense of secrecy? I can counteract you now.”But Lance knows that this is all part of the game; their plans are already in place and now they’re just having fun. The big finale comes later while this is only the opening act.“Yeah but we both know you can never refuse a dance.” Keith holds out his hand--he’s even wearing those stupid fingerless gloves despite the ritzy event. Lance’s face softens at the sight; some things never change.(or this time Lance and Keith meet at an art gala and some things are different now)





	late night devil (put your hands on me)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Teeth by 5SOS
> 
> Posting this now in honor of the recent release of Carmen Sandiego s2 which was so good omg! This fic takes place a few months after the art auction. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy:)
> 
> (Looking at Me by Sabrina Carpenter inspired this oneshot)

“You clean up good, Red,” Lance whispers into Keith’s ear. The other man jolts in surprise, fingers twitching by his side as he whips around to face Lance. Wide startled eyes meet Lance’s pleased grin before they settle into an emotionless state.

Keith’s hair falls to his shoulders in carefree waves and his long bangs must obstruct his view in some way as they hang well past his eyes now. Lance has to prevent himself from sweeping them out of Keith’s face, if only to feel the soft locks against his fingers again. 

Lance is impressed that Keith put some effort into his ‘disguise’ for once. Besides a regular black suit jacket and slacks, he wears the red dress shirt Lance bought for him when they were in Austria--which feels like a lifetime ago now. Part of him wonders who helped Keith clean up so well for the gala; after all, he has never met the person who caused Keith to leave the Guild all those years ago. 

Having regained his composure, Keith sends a sharp glare at Lance, but it loses its edge not even a second later. “I was wondering where you were hiding all night.”

“Hm, you know I never hide. Just gotta look harder next time.” Lance pauses for a moment, wondering if he should bring up the _ thing _ tonight but eventually decides it is worth it. If only to dig under Keith’s skin a little more. “You’re probably out of practice from those few months you ghosted me.” There’s a sarcastic smile on Lance’s face now, gaze pointed.

Back then, Lance hadn’t known when he woke up with Keith in his arms after the Paris art auction that that would be the last time he saw his ex-partner for a long while. Lance doesn’t understand what happened in Keith’s mind to make him run and hide and he doubts he ever will. That was something Keith could only work out with himself. 

Lance is glad he finally did. At least... he _ hopes _Keith has figured it out.

Keith’s lips twitch in a wince, and his eyes dart to the side, studying the ceiling or something, anything that’s not him. At least the guilt is apparent, Lance’s mind muses. “You know I already apologized.”

“Yes you did.” Lance absentmindedly touches the front of his shirt where a keychain sits on a necklace under his clothes. In a plastic protective covering lies a miniature gift shop replica of the first painting Lance stole--an act of love to make sure no harm came to the piece. It had been the painting that brought them together and thus will always be Lance’s favorite. The replica bounces on his skin whenever he walks, reminding him that Keith’s (stupid) actions never necessarily line up with his true feelings. “Doesn’t mean I won’t keep bringing it up until it gets old.”

“I guess I deserve that.” 

Keith seems to mean it too, but Lance has enough decency within him to finally find another topic, one that’s far more pressing. Cocking his hip, Lance gestures at Keith. “So you’re here to stop me?”

“Of course,” Keith replies, a tilt to his head, “I know the Guild wouldn’t want to miss the opportunity.” 

A light chuckle leaves Lance’s lips. “What’s your plan this time? Since all I’m doing is enjoying this wonderful party.” His arms stretch out wide to encompass everything around them--the crystal chandeliers, the large rich crowd in expensive, lavish clothing, and the music that swells around them. 

The museum is hosting this gala to showcase their new collection of Mughal’s miniature paintings. An event that is only open to wealthy donors and patrons before the public will be able to gaze upon the masterpieces. It’s not a shock that Lance is here to make sure those paintings do not return to the museum's vault and it’s also not a shock that Keith is here to make sure they do. 

They have a cat and mouse type game when they’re working--one chases the other to the object of desire first and who ever reaches it wins. Sometimes it’s Lance--sometimes he’s so early that all that’s left for Keith is a cheeky note. Lance wishes he could stay around for those moments to see his livid expression. Usually, it’s situations like this where they meet each other in the middle of the mission. These are the fun ones.

“You’re canvassing the joint and we both know it. But I’m here to distract you.” 

“I didn’t actually expect you to tell me,” Lance comments with a quick, sharp laugh. “Where’s your sense of secrecy? I can counteract you now.” 

But Lance knows that this is all part of the game; their plans are already in place and now they’re just having fun. The big finale comes later while this is only the opening act. 

“Yeah but we both know you can never refuse a dance.” Keith holds out his hand--he’s even wearing those stupid fingerless gloves despite the ritzy event. Lance’s face softens at the sight; some things never change. 

He places his hand in Keith’s before he responds, openly gazing at Keith. “Alright, but I’m taking the lead on this one.”

“By all means--” Keith grips the front of his shirt, yanking him close enough that Lance can count the light freckles that are sprinkled across the bridge of Keith’s nose. His voice lowers an inch. “--Show me what you’ve got.”

Lance first started attending ballroom dance lessons at age six and didn’t stop until he left for university. Even if there aren’t many opportunities to use those skills anymore, he is still a master. He places his hand on Keith’s lower back as he guides his partner to the dance floor. The pads of his fingers press into Keith’s skin and he turns to clasp Keith’s hand in his own. Without prompt, Keith places his hand on Lance’s shoulder and they begin to dance. Lance steps back and Keith easily follows, surprisingly not watching the ground to predict his movements. 

Their bodies grow closer and closer together as with each step they lose a piece of themselves to this dance.

They meld together into the crowd, following the stream of other couples on the floor until suddenly there is no mass to hide in anymore. Lance is pleased to note that he has drawn the attention of everyone around them as usual, and the couples leave the dance floor one group at a time to give them space. They’re the only ones left now; the music is solely for them. 

If Keith has noticed the change, he doesn’t indicate it. Those gray-violet eyes are trained on the only thing in front of them. Their audience, on the other hand, is captivated by their fluid footwork so Lance is determined to provide them with a good show. His steps become larger, grander, and Keith matches him without missing a beat. 

“Didn’t think you knew how to dance,” Lance lightly comments, allowing Keith to step away for a moment before twirling him back in.

Keith’s back presses against Lance’s chest, his head turning closer to Lance when he speaks. “Things change.”

Lance’s eyes flutter closed for a moment, arms practically wrapped around Keith as the tempo slows until a new song begins. They sway together, Keith’s breath drifts across Lance’s skin while he keeps his gaze focused on Lance. Lips so close, body so warm, hair so soft against his cheek. 

The music pops again and Keith returns to his original starting position as they take over another song, lost to time now. “I know _ I _ didn’t teach you,” Lance eventually says.

“Not everything is about you, Lance.” 

Lance grins. “And that’s quite a shame.”

“If you want to know,” Keith continues with an exasperated sigh on his tongue, flicking his hair out of his eyes, “I had to learn for another mission.”

“Should have invited me.”

Amusement shines in his eyes for a moment, lips inching up into a full smile. “I tried but your invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.”

“You’re getting too good at this, Keith. I’m almost jealous that other things can easily hold your attention now.” He cracks the teasing line but forgets to put his whole heart into it. Even he can hear the bitterness the envelopes them. 

As Lance leads them effortlessly across the floor, through song after song, he almost forgets how close Keith is to him. How hot his skin is as it prickles Lance’s fingers through the suit, how much Lance wishes dancing together is all they are doing, enjoying themselves without hidden meanings behind their words, eyes, and actions. That Lance could lean in and kiss Keith on the lips right now and never have to question what their future holds.

“Don’t worry,” Keith replies after a moment. Small beads of sweat line his forehead as the effort of the continuous dancing catches up with him. A frown mars his pretty features. “I’ll always make time for y--to stop you.”

There are a million lines Lance wants to use as a response: _ I know _ or _ then why did you leave… both times? _ or _ why do you always hide your feelings even though we can both hear your slip ups? _The lines aren’t right though, so he goes with what he knows best--the safest response which isn’t really a response at all but just another deflection. “I’m going to leave you breathless tonight, Keith.”

“Oh?” Keith raises an eyebrow, encouraging the change of topic. “I thought you were still angry with me.” 

What Keith means is: Lance has not extended an invitation to Keith to spend the night since they reunited after those few months apart. Honestly, Lance doesn’t know when or if he will start up that routine of theirs again. Everything is too raw, almost as awful as the first time Keith left without a word. 

“I am,” Lance confirms without a moment’s pause. “But I’ll always find a way to make the night memorable.”

“Is that a challenge or a fact?”

“Doesn’t matter. We both know I’ll win.” They also both know this isn’t necessarily about the dance anymore. 

“Not a chance,” Keith breathes, clipping his words.

“Face it, Keith,” Lance whispers as he leans his head more into Keith’s space, “I’m better at this than you.”

Right as the song reaches its last few notes, Lance dips Keith, his arm cradling Keith’s weight. A hush falls over both of them; their heartbeats remain quiet though Lance’s chest heaves. 

From all the twirling and general fast paced movements, Keith’s hair has become more of an effortless mess than before--it looks better, in Lance’s opinion, not that Keith has ever looked terrible. He finally brushes Keith’s bangs behind an ear, gazing at an open face. 

“How’s that?” He’s a hair’s breadth away from Keith’s lips but his whispered words linger in the small space between them.

Keith’s mouth parts in a wordless answer. 

The sudden applause breaks the spell and Lance walks away, leaving a stunned Keith on the ballroom floor. It’s not as if he can linger if he even wanted to; he has a task to complete after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have another oneshot in the works (chronologically set after this fic) but it's been put on hold for Klance/Keithtober and a Halloween type fic. I should hopefully be back to it by November tho!
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos and follow the series for more:)


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